Stanuary Week 4: Comfort
by PrinRue
Summary: Two years after Ford's disappearance through the portal, Stan has a vivid flashback of them as kids, reminding him of why he so desperately needs to get his twin back. Young Stan and Ford hurt/comfort. Final week of Stanuary. FEELS! (hopefully)


**And now, for the final week of Stanuary, I present a full story to you! This week's prompt is comfort, and boy, do I sure love me some hurt/comfort stories! This one was my favorite of the 4 prompts! Hope you enjoy reading it as much I did writing it!**

 **I'm a sucker for these types of fics**

* * *

Stan grunted as he pushed the lever again. The triangular machine sparked for a moment, but burned out to blackness once more. Stan slammed his hand on the cold concrete floor in frustration.

"Dang it!" He slouched over in defeat, burying his face in his hands. Two years. It had been two years, and he still couldn't get that stupid portal to work. What if he _never_ got Ford back?

Stan ran his fingers through his tangled hair, sighing at the situation. What was he missing?

 _The rest of the freakin' instructions, that's what._

"What am I gonna do..." Stan said to himself. He rubbed his eyes and checked his watch. _3:46_. He better at least _try_ and get some sleep.

Stan made his way back to the main level of his brother's house. Past the various tools and electrical parts. Past the unfinished inventions and blueprints. Past the weird artifacts his brother had collected. Past the bucket collecting water from the leak in the roof- he should empty that again soon.

Stan pushed open the creaky door to the room he'd been staying in since Ford disappeared. He plopped onto the sagging couch, resting his chin in his hands.

His hands.

Stan looked at his hand. Morbid as it seemed, it always reminded him of his twin. He moved his left pointer finger to the side of his right palm, making it look like a sixth finger. Stan sighed. He reached over to the desk beside the couch and dug through the drawer until he found his wallet. Opening it, he saw it. A faded photo of him and Ford when they were seven or eight, on the dock with the sun low over the water behind them.

They looked happy in the picture, but if you looked closely, you could see the truth. The protective look in Stan's eyes and the quiet worry in Ford's. Stan remembered that time clearly...

-0-

"Oh, and what if we use that canvas for the sail?"

"Yeah, and that foam to make seat cushions!"

"You know comfort's not the point, right?" Laughing.

"I know, I just think we deserve to treasure hunt in style!"

Ford playfully punched his brother's arm, causing Stan to join him in laughing. The young boys were kneeling in the sand with an array of scavenged junk they'd collected for their boat.

Stan picked up a piece of sheet metal. "I wonder what we could use _this_ for..."

Ford took the item from his twin and studied it. "Hmmm... maybe we could make some reinforcements to the hull- oh, or enhance the structure!"

"Yeah, you wish, freak." A voice behind them said.

The twins turned around to see none other than Crampelter behind them, his hands on his hips and a smirk on his face.

"Oh, shut up, Crampelter. You just wish you had a boat as cool as ours." Stan scoffed.

"I wasn't talking to you, dimwit." Crampelter pointed at Ford. "I was talking to that defective thing."

Ford immediately looked away and hid his hands behind his back. Stan, noticing this, stepped in front of his brother. "You leave him alone. He ain't done nothing to you!"

"What about you?" Crampelter asked with a sneer.

"Yeah, what about me!" Stan fired back.

"Always having to swoop in to save that loser. Man, it must be... suffocating, right?"

"Don't you talk about my brother like that!"

"Why not? You both know you'd be better off if _he_ didn't exist." Crampelter laughed. "Oh well. At least he can always look to you to know how he was _supposed_ to turn out." The bully kicked at the twins' supply pile before waving tauntingly goodbye. "See ya later, rejects!" Still laughing, Crampelter bolted away.

"What a jerk." Stan mumbled. "Right, Ford?" Stan looked back, but his brother wasn't there anymore. "Ford? Stanford!" Stan ran around their little beach spot, searching frantically for him. Finally, he heard something; muffled crying. It was coming from the cave they'd discovered their boat in.

Stan poked his head in the cavern. "Ford? You in here?"

"Go away!" His brother's voice yelled.

Never one to listen, Stan walked in anyway. He found Ford curled up against the stone wall, his head buried in his knees.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Stan kneeled down to Ford's level.

"I said go away!" Ford shoved his brother's shoulders, knocking him down. "I don't need you right now! Or... you don't need me."

Flustered, Stan pushed his anger down. It had the tendency to get the better of him, but he couldn't let it this time. His twin needed him right now. "Why wouldn't I need you?"

"Because it's true..." Ford trailed off, speaking too quiet for Stan to hear clearly.

"What?"

"Because it's true!" Ford screamed. "It's all true! It... it _would_ be better... if it was only you." He lifted his glasses to wipe at the tears now streaming from his eyes. "I just..." Ford held his hands in front of him, wrapping his fist around his extra finger. "Sometimes, I wish I could change me. You deserve a normal brother. Someone less nerdy, less awkward, less... less _unusual._ Then, you wouldn't always have to come and defend me."

"Hey, listen to me," Stan said. "It would NOT be better if I didn't have you. I don't know _what_ I would do if you weren't here, Ford."

"But- but I'm a freak! A glitch in genetics! Just _look_!" Ford shoved his hand in Stan's face.

"But you're not!" Stan took Ford's hands and laced what fingers he could through his brother's. "You're the smartest, most ambitious kid in town- no in the whole country! And you're gonna grow up to do so many amazing things! Way more than I'll ever do..." Stan smiled at Ford. "Don't ever think you're worthless again. You're not. You're... you're _everything_ to me."

Ford smiled slightly and wiped his last tears. He then looked at Stan and noticed his eyes about to spill over.

"Hey... you know something useful about having six fingers?" Ford asked, reaching over to brush the tears from his brother's eyes. "You can wipe away the tears a lot faster."

Stan laughed through his crying. "Yeah... I bet."

"Thank you. For always being there for me."

"Anytime, buddy."

Ford looked at his twin and smiled. "High six?" He held up his hand for Stan.

"High six."

-0-

Stan blinked to clear his blurred vision, still staring at the photo in his wallet.

 _I'm sorry, Ford. Sorry I didn't tell you more often. But you do. You still do mean everything to me._

With that, Stan chucked the wallet back in the desk, getting up from the couch. He certainly wasn't sleeping tonight.

Instead, he went back to elevator, preparing to return to his project.

"Just one more try. I'm gonna get you back... someday."


End file.
